Free Megan Frampton by Baring It All Page A

when he was learning. Violet knew that firsthand, since she was often at the Jepstows’ house when he’d had his lessons, and she’d been called upon to be his partner.
    He’d spent more time explaining Plato’s theory of forms than he had on the steps.
    His intelligence was just one of the reasons she loved him—she never had toworry that they would run out of things to talk about—but it was also proving to be an impediment to the whole romantic aspect of marriage that she longed for.
    If only there was some way to show him just who she was.

What Not to Bare
    Dear ladies, please know that your columnist has your best interests at heart. It is with great discretion, therefore, that we discuss the sensitive topic of undergarments. Some ladies, it seems, do not pay as strict attention to what to wear under their gowns as they do to their gowns themselves.
    A crucial error, my ladies.
    A lady’s gown dictates what should be worn underneath, and will look to best advantage when bolstered with the proper wear. Choose what looks best, even if it can’t be seen. If you are unsure, ask a trusted advisor—a sister, a mother, perhaps even a husband—for their opinion.
    If it is the latter, however, be aware that perhaps you will not end up going out for the evening after all, but staying in.

Chapter 2
    “And if I don’t find a woman soon—tonight—I might as well ship off to the Colonies. My sister will have my head otherwise.” Lord Christian Jepstow ran his fingers through his already-ruffled hair. “Who’d think women’s undergarments were so compelling?” He glanced around his study, normally a place of refuge for him, but that was when he was doing translations.
Sensible
things, not like this task of writing at all.
    “Me, for one,” his friend Gilbert replied. “It’s like opening a present you hope is worth the wait, and all the unwrapping. A pristine, warm, soft present that—”
    “Enough,” Christian said. He glared at Gilbert, who was lounging on the divan as though he hadn’t a care. Which he didn’t, actually. Few nabob’s heirs did. “Your poetic musings on women are not solving my problem. What would solve my problem is if a female—a well-born female—were to present herself to be undressed in the next ten minutes. And since that is unlikely to—”
    “I’ll do it.” A voice, distinctly female, emerged from the high-backed chair that was facing towards the window. A second later, a head popped into Christian’s view.
    It took a moment for him to recognize her—he wasn’t used to seeing her anywhere but at parties. He’d seen her recently, hadn’t he? Danced with her, too, if he remembered correctly.
    “Violet!” he said, wondering if he had said anything he shouldn’t have. But his betrothed looked as calm and agreeable as ever, not at all as if she’d heard anything that shocked her. Not that he knew what might shock her. The thought struck him that he knew little about her, other than that their fathers were best friends. Plenty of time for getting to know her after the wedding. A lifetime, in fact.
    She rose, frowning down at her gown, whose wrinkles she was attempting to control. To no avail, at least to Christian’s admittedly unschooled eyes. And she was going to help him with a fashion column?
    “You need a woman, isn’t that right, Christian?” She spread her hands out. “And I am here. And, luckily enough, female.” Was she … 
mocking
him? He knew she wasfemale—he wouldn’t have proposed to her otherwise.
    “You’ll excuse me, Jep,” Gilbert said, his blue eyes dancing with laughter as he popped up from his reclining position. “I am expected at my club.” He quickly stepped to the door and slammed it shut behind him, leaving them alone. Coward.
    Christian turned to meet Violet’s eyes, which were not violet at all, but a sherry-colored brown. Like a Guernsey cow. He’d studied the beasts when he was considering what an animal’s philosophy